Boys and bears

Up North, by Jodi Snyder

This morning, around 4 a.m., our dog, Junior, woke us up making a ruckus downstairs. My husband, Ed, went down to see what was happening, and came back muttering under his breath and telling the dog to hush up. "Nothing," he reported to me sleepily.

A few minutes later, the dog went nuts again. This time, I was the one who went downstairs. I, too, saw nothing. But the way our 145-pound German shepherd was acting, I knew something was outside, and he had gotten a whiff of it.

I looked out the window one last time and there was an adult black bear roaming around the yard, looking for something to eat. I called to Ed, "Black bear!" and he came downstairs. He videotaped the bear as we watched it wander around the house. The bear climbed up a birch tree and investigated the empty bird feeder. He stood on his back legs and sniffed at an old pine cone that hung in another tree -- it had suet on it once, about two years ago. He batted around the wind chimes Ed made me for Christmas.

When the bear headed to the back porch, toward the gas grill, Ed shouted at him and he ran away, but not before he pried the bungee cords off two trash cans and rooted around in our garbage. Thank goodness Ed had recently gone to the dump.

I have always had a healthy respect for bears, ever since my first summer in Alaska, in 1983, when I worked at a fishing lodge on the remote Talachulitna River. There we had many close encounters with bears, brown and black. One day that summer I was charged by a bear that came along while I was cleaning a salmon by the riverbank (but that's another story.)

While I have a real fear of coal-bed methane development, of new subdivisions being built around us, of the incredible growth of our little community, I don't really think of bears as a serious threat. I also have a general feeling that they aren't any more interested in me than I am in them, unless provoked.

Because we live on a river, and the trail from our house to the river is along a natural rise of land, we usually see one or two bears a year come through our yard. Who knows how many pass through that we don't see. They tend to travel up the hill, investigate our smells, irritate the dog, wake up the family, and move on down the road to either Susitna Landing just to the south of us or Caswell Creek just to the north. If a bear wakes us in the night, we can lie in bed and listen to the different neighborhood dogs as one by one they are alerted to the bear, and we can know just where it's heading.

Now that we have an ambulatory child in the house, the presence of a bear is a little more frightening. I wonder what I would do if my son were playing in the yard and a bear came along. How would I react? How would my little boy react?

My son slept through the bear visit this morning. When he got up, we showed him the video Ed made, and talked to him, again, about bears. My son, mind you, is of the impression that all animals are friendly. He is the type of child who shouts "Hello, eagle! Hello, moose!" to the animals he sees. He runs right up to every dog he meets, anxious to pet them and have a conversation. Maybe because he is an only child, and has had lots of pets (rabbits, dogs, cats and fish so far) he feels connected to them in some special way. I tell him every time we see a strange animal that he shouldn't run right up and introduce himself, because animals aren't necessarily friendly. But so far he hasn't grasped the concept, and I usually have to run after him as he races over to adopt a new friend.

I worry about him encountering a bear in our yard, or while we are camping, or when we are walking in the woods. But it's not like that crazed first-time parent fear I had when he was learning about a hot cup of coffee or about playing by the fast-moving water. I just keep the bear spray on a peg in the front room and hope he doesn't head off after a bear if he sees one.

I used to worry that my son would never talk. Now he jabbers on incessantly, just like his mother. He wants to know about every little thing he sees. He shares with everyone everything he learns. He talks to the animals, the trees, the river and the walls. I still think back on how I didn't think he would ever talk, and my friends still tease me about it. All my worrying, over nothing.

I hope it's the same with my concern over bear encounters, that he proves me wrong and shows me if the time ever comes that he will do what is right for the situation.

As my son headed outside to play this morning, I heard his Dad asking him what he would do if he saw a bear in the yard. "I would stand really still," he said somberly, "and tell the bear to go away."

In all honesty, I am not sure what to tell my 3-year-old about a bear encounter. It seems hard enough to process what my gut reaction would be as an adult. Without making him overly fearful and afraid, I wonder what I can say that will impress on him the potential seriousness of such a situation.

I looked online for suggestions on educating children about bear safety. I found none immediately, but did find plenty of tips written for adults. The first site I viewed was from the Public Lands Information Center. They offered this advice:

If you encounter a bear at a close distance, remain calm. (Yeah, right!) Remember bear attacks are rare. (Hard to remember when you are looking up the nostrils of a bear.) Identify yourself. (My son should have no problem there.) Talk in a normal voice and wave your arms. Back away slowly, but if the bear follows, stop and hold your ground. (Again, yeah right!) If the bear comes closer, raise your voice and become more aggressive. Resist the urge to run. (And what a strong urge that is!) If the bear makes contact, fall to the ground and play dead. (At which point I would likely already be dead of a heart attack.) Put your hands behind your neck. Remain motionless. (Hold on, folks, it gets even scarier.) If the bear continues biting after you have assumed this posture for some time, fight back vigorously. (This last part, I think, would come naturally to anyone being bitten by a bear.)

Suddenly, I was feeling much more vulnerable about bears coming through the yard. Not to mention scared out of my wits at the idea of my son meeting up with one. So much for my calm demeanor toward bear encounters.

Everything I read about bears this afternoon advises a person to make sure the bear knows you are there, so they aren't startled by your presence. On that note, I felt a little relief. I figure the chance of my son surprising a bear is pretty slim since he is so vocal -- despite all my early worries -- talking, humming, singing, hollering or pitching a fit most of the day.

Jodi Snyder lives north of Willow and contributes stories to the Frontiersman. Not to make light of bear encounters, she plans to take her son to the Talkeetna Public Library presentation on bear safety for children on July 1 at 2 p.m. You can reach her at 495-6857 or jodi@alaska.net.